


Random Acts 1

by Ordered_Chaos



Series: Random Acts - Nice things for Castiel [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not really any plot, Someone being nice to Cas, just cuz, just literally be nice to Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-06-03
Packaged: 2018-07-11 23:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7074334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ordered_Chaos/pseuds/Ordered_Chaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is a person, and he deserves for people to be nice to him. <br/>Exhibit A.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Random Acts 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bookkbaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookkbaby/gifts).



The glass hits the floor before Cas has even registered his hand knocking into it. He jumps at the clatter, flushing in embarrassment as everyone in the diner turns their heads to look at him. He quickly ducks to pick it up, already reaching into his pocket to get his remaining money so he can leave it on the table and get out of here.

“Don’t worry about it,” the waiter says, already hurrying over with a towel. He’s a lanky, bespectacled kid whose pants end two inches above his ankles. “It’s only water.”

He drops down next to Cas’s seat, hurriedly picking up the cup from the mess, setting it aside, and wiping up the spilled water. He glances up and sees Cas’s worried expression.

“Seriously, man. This happens all the time. I’m just glad it’s not coke or syrup or something. Those are the worst.” He’s monologuing now, his hand sweeping smooth circles with the towel. “One time this dad requested a whole bowl of raisins for his kid. We get really weird requests. Whatever. But the kid didn’t want the raisins. He flipped out. Raisins went everywhere. _Everywhere._ We’re still finding them. I think there’s even some in the air vents.”

The floor’s dry now. He’s about to get up, but he goes back for a small drip that he’s missed. He wipes it up. Another warm drop of liquid hits his hand.

The waiter looks up and his mouth opens when he sees that Cas’s eyes are wet with tears.

“Hey, man. You okay?” he sounds scared.

Cas clears his throat, clenching his eyes. “Yes,” he says gruffly. He stands up, leaving his money on the table. “Thank you.”

He walks out of the diner. Thankfully the other patrons aren’t watching him anymore. On the steps outside he pauses, taking a deep breath to ease the lump that had risen so suddenly in his throat. It doesn’t help.

Cas is on the sidewalk when the door to the diner tinkles behind him. The waiter calls out, “Hey! Hold on a sec!”

Cas isn’t sure who he’s talking to, so he glances over his shoulder. The waiter runs up to him, a plastic bag in one hand, the other held up to Cas.

“You, uh. You didn’t finish your meal,” he says awkwardly, pushing his fist toward Cas more insistently. “So here.”

He’s trying to give Cas the food and his money. Cas frowns. This is not what waiters usually do. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand, and the waiter drops the cash into it. Cas can’t help but close his fingers tightly around the last money he has in the world.

“Why?” he asks the waiter, searching his eyes for some hidden motive behind his kindness.

The kid shrugs, but he’s watching Cas just as intently. “You seemed kinda like you needed a favor today.” He gestures at Castiel’s worn clothes and days-old stubble, and holds out the bag. Cas can smell food from inside it. His hand closes around the handle. “I would tell you to have lunch with me, but I don’t get off until 9. So this is on me.”

Cas feels the lump fill his throat again. He shakes his head, trying to hand the money back. “You don’t have to d—”

The kid takes a step backward, shifting his shoulders in discomfort. “Hey, man. It’s fine. I want to give it back to you. Just take it?” It feels like he’s begging.

Cas pulls both hands closer to his chest, feeling the warmth of his packed-up lunch against skin, and the emotional warmth of having some money left after all. He nods.

“Thank you. I’ll repay you some—”

The kid is already shaking his head. “Don’t. Just take care of yourself.”

He’s walking away. The diner door tinkles when he pulls it open, pauses, waves and Cas, and goes inside.

Cas turns to keep walking down the sidewalk, still clutching his food. Its warmth feels like it’s already filling his stomach.

He passes a park half a block later and takes a seat on an old, graffitied bench. He opens the bag and eats.


End file.
